


Brontide

by SingingCookie



Series: Reassembling Memories and Respite [3]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, No Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-03 23:47:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15829410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingingCookie/pseuds/SingingCookie
Summary: Brontide—The low rumbling of distant thunder.





	Brontide

**Author's Note:**

> I need to mention before you get into this, this physically pained me to write. But, I got this word as a prompt with this character so. Gotta do what you gotta do.

It had been another day in her white prison cell. Yet another day of her mission to reassemble the broken memories of the Keyblade wielder that slumbered peacefully in the basement. Mornings and nights would pass without much meaning other than the shadows that would skate across the room. But other than that, it was almost meaningless to her. She didn’t need to sleep the way normal people did either, which made the passage of time that much more pointless.

She worked herself raw, the skin of her hands growing rough from her more intense pictures. She would only pause briefly in her labor, to roll her wrists and stretch her fingers; and past that, she only ever stopped when she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. Then she would push the notebook further on the table and rest her head on crossed arms, where it had lay moments before, sleeping until her body had enough or when DiZ would come in to shake her awake.

This time had been even more of a rude awakening. But it wasn’t due to DiZ or Riku—though the latter never woke her, at least not on purpose—this time it was from a flash of light behind her closed eyelids. She jumped awake, just managing to catch herself from falling as her white chair clattered sideways, echoing throughout the silence of the room. One of her hands gripped the table tightly—its stability was the sole reason she had kept from toppling alongside her seat in the moment before—and she stared with eyes wide as saucers at the drawn curtains.

It was dark outside; she couldn’t tell if it was night or if it was from a storm. But for a second, she was convinced she had imagined that flash behind her eyes. Perhaps it was all she remembered of the end of her dream. But then she heard that faint roar, it wasn’t close enough for her to feel the tremor in her body, but it convinced her that she had not dreamt it. Her skin trembled, bright goosebumps coming out of the woodwork as she waited with bated breath for whatever came next.

She did not have the fortune of shutting her eyes when the next stream illuminated the room. She could see the trail of lightning, even through the thick material of the curtains. A pitiful sound erupted from the back of Naminé’s throat, as she knelt down to join the chair on the ground with her hands clutched over her ears. Her blue eyes refused to look anywhere but at the window to the outside.

“ _It’s not her. It’s not her_ ,” she chanted to herself as the thunder rolled again. She lightly shook her head. “Everything’s fine. It’s fine.” Another undignified noise when that crooked line flashed before her eyes again. “She’s  _gone._ It’s not her…” Was that a silhouette of a person in the—

She forced herself to look away, setting her head upon her knees, sliding her worn hands so her arms covered everything else from view. “She can’t be here.” She had a faint feeling of something resting on her back and a soft voice nearby. But she couldn’t understand. “Everything’s fine,” she sobbed. The storm was running its course through her body and all she could do was shut herself up as tight as she could to keep from being blown away.  “They can’t hurt me anymore…they can’t…”


End file.
